Soul Collected
by RazorRay
Summary: Lucian and Senna, a man and wife pair of Purifiers, get word of a demon terrorizing Runeterra. As the last two known combatants of the dead, they trek across the various terrain with means to an end. But at what cost?


**Chapter 1: The Demacian Messenger**

A chilling laughter pierced the cold night air. It was sadistic; it was evil. And the thing was _coming for him_. He ran, frantically, with nothing but fear and adrenaline as motivation. Survival instincts were kicking in.

If he had a moment to pause, he would be aware of the exhaustion and pain in his ribs. How long had he been running? He could not remember. An image of a green being and the sound of chains. He barely could recollect the monstrosity that was after him and dare not think more about it.

The woods were getting darker, thicker. The moon was high in the sky, but its light could no longer break through the canopy. To run, move, and keep going was his only mission. Get away from that thing. Little did he know, he was running out of room and he was running out of time.

Thresh enjoyed the chase. However, he enjoyed catching his victims more. He had trapped a helpless mortal in this neck of the woods once before. It would not end well for this unfortunate wanderer.

The ghost walked calmly as he always had. There was no reason to rush. The kill was not the thrill. Instead, he relished the torment of the soul he would soon harvest.

The man burst forth into a clearing, heaving for air. Did he have enough time to catch his breath? He did not know, but the pain in his ribs was becoming too much. Maybe he should try to hide. Maybe that was a better plan than running. He was already lost, more lost than usual.

As a Demacian messenger he had seen a lot of Valoran. It was not an easy job and it was not for everyone. The price of admission was typically death. Crossing the varying landscapes was not just for anyone. The creatures and beings one could come across were typically dangerous. He had once even managed to make it through the Shurima Desert on one voyage. It was that trek that might have garnered the attention of the Demacian leadership. The message he carried now was of utmost importance.

He tried to get his bearing on his surroundings. His eyes started adjusting better to the darkness. Stumbling towards the center of the clearing, he noticed a person slumped against a tree on the outskirts. He could barely make out the whites of their eyes. They were staring at him, watching him.

He briefly forgot about the demon chasing him and focused on his current predicament."Who's there," he whispered forcefully.

Nothing. No response. An uneasiness began to settle in him once again. He slowly walked closer to the person, eyes staring into theirs. He was ready to react on a moments notice. The grass beneath his feet was soft and didn't make any sound. The only thing he could hear was his rapid breathing which he tried to calm.

"Hey", he whispered again. "I'm lost. I need your help." Again, no response. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the person was unnervingly still.

A step or two later, a scene was revealed before him he could not distinguish before. A slight breeze, sway of the trees, and the moonlight made its way into the circle he stood in.

Blood. Everywhere.

The person was not staring at him; he was staring into the abyss. He was dead. Horror and dread filled him as a chill went up his spine. All-of-a-sudden he realized just how cold it was.

And that was when he heard the rattle of chains.

A lantern drifted just below Thresh's outstretched hand. His control over it was one even he did not fully understand. The souls inside – he could feel them. It was as if they were his to keep for all eternity. The pain and torment they had suffered right before their demise delighted him to no end.

The keys and locks he once used as warden dangled from him, jingling to their own tune. Now, no locks were needed. He did not imprison flesh, he imprisoned the soul.

Thresh recognized the familiar path he was taking. He knew the clearing was ahead and he knew that the man would be there. A slight breeze began to pick up and he knew this was the opportunity to hasten his efforts.

Moonlight shone just beyond the trees he was about to pass through. The clearing was just on the other side. The trees parted his girth as he walked into the cleared circle. The man was frozen with fear, his back still to him. Thresh could sense his horror and his lips cracked into an evil grin.

"Nobody escapes." The voice of Thresh was deep and laced with menace. It was a guttural garble of other voices. Perhaps the voices of the dead.

The Damacian slowly turned in his direction. His face was the face of dread and defeat. Thresh had seen this face from his victims many times before. The man looked around with nowhere to run and started to back away.

"What _are_ you?!", he screamed at Thresh.

Thresh glowed a ghastly green that shown bright in the dark of the night. He was wrapped in chains around the waist and his head floated just above where his neck should be. In his right hand was a hook made of bones, attached to himself by a chain, just like his lantern.

"There is life. There is death," said the deep voice of lost souls. Thresh began to swing his hook around by the chain. The man faltered backwards.

"And then there is _ME_!", Thresh exclaimed. He released his grasp on the chain and sent the hook flying.

 _ **CRUNCH!**_

A sickening thud of pain to the messenger. Music to Thresh's ears. The man would have all but fell on his butt had the hook not bore so deeply into his chest. Thresh pulled the chain taut and kept the man on his feet while looking into his eyes.

There was a brief moment as time stood still in the circle. Then Thresh pulled himself to the man and ripped the hook from his chest. He flayed the man across the face and blood spattered in all directions.

Choking on his own blood, the man tried to speak. But he could utter nothing as he looked up into Thresh's demonic features.

Thresh's green eyes gazed upon his prize with enthusiasm. He let the lantern fall and float just above the circle floor.

The man was gasping for air. It wheezed in and out of his punctured lungs. All he could see, in the dimming of his vision, was the face of his killer. Thresh locked eyes with him and laughed.

"Death? No... nothing that simple."

The image of the man floated out of his body and into the air. It then meshed into a bright blue ball of energy. Feint screams could be heard as the ball was sucked into the lantern. Then the clearing became dark once again.

A letter, with the Damacian seal, lay unnoticed in the grass.


End file.
